Dastielololol Chapter III
by MM Lemons
Summary: Dean and Castiel just can't stop lying to each other any longer. They know how powerful their love is and it can no longer be ingored. Little Sammy suspects nothing. And that's how they want it to remain. But Sam has always been pretty smart... RATED M FOR LEMONS! DASTIEL!


The first time I met Dean, he was torturing broken souls in Hell. I found it repulsive at the time, but in retrospect I understand now. I mean, he was torturing the dead so that he wouldn't be tortured himself. Wait. . . That sounded much more convincing in my head. Never mind.

Anyway, I was a little bit angry at what he was doing downstairs. I remember seeing Alastair grinning over his shoulder, proud of his pupil's progress thus far. And I felt so terrible for a Dean—I mean a demon as a _teacher_. Ad nauseum. Just thinking about it makes the bile in my stomach come up to my throat. (I still don't understand how you humans live with these bodies. Personally, I find them very limiting.)

That was the main reason I raised Dean Winchester from perdition. He needed a better teacher and a friend. . . with benefits. And it didn't hurt that I was ordered to pull him out, either. Really, that was my excuse. That's what I told everyone back home. If they found out I was having feelings for a filthy human (no offense, readers) they would've killed me with my own blade on the spot that very second. I would've died and Dean still wouldn't have a good teacher. It was for the greater good. Perfectly understandable.

That was one thing I did to Dean Winchester, I left a red handprint on his upper arm and raised him from perdition. No, I don't regret it in the slightest.

Back then I was corrupted by my own family. My brothers and sisters were anxious to bring on the Apocalypse. Dean's time in Hell was done, the first seal shattered beyond repair, and from there it would be a downward spiral to Armageddon. Our plans were just, though. Kill off this human race and restore the Earth to its former glory so that Father could start a new batch of humans. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

And then I met Dean. Like really _met_ him on more than just a first-name basis. I learned his motives, what made him tick—his two-faced brother.

Sam was not my favorite. I knew what he was up to and he was also a demon's pupil. However, I had no orders to take action about Sam's condition as I was told someone else was taking care of that. That I had enough to worry about with Dean. And Sam was sleeping with his demon teacher so I had no interest in becoming a part of his sex life. The mere thought sends shivers down my spine and makes me want to take a bleach bath like Michael Jackson. (That's why he changed colors, you know. Tried to scrub his sins clean with bleach. You know what the outcome was.)

I watched Dean going against the up and coming Apocalypse head first and I felt guilty that I was helping to cause his grief. Then I looked at the other humans in the world, how they were fighting the terrible crises happening daily. And I started feeling again, this time much stronger than when I first laid eyes on Dean. Guilt, remorse, regret, sorrow, pity. And, of course, the all-consuming fire of my love for Dean. Sometimes I swore I saw that same passion in his eyes, but in a flash it'd be gone and I'd walk gloomily back to the drawing board. I thought life saving was supposed to be a turn on. Apparently not for Dean. I wish I'd known him before he served his time in Hell. We could've had so much fun together. . .

I knew Dean regretted the things he'd done in Hell when he was told he'd broken the first seal down there. I saw in his eyes how much it hurt him, and I wanted to be his happy-ending masseuse right then and there and not give a damn what those near us would think or say. If they weren't happy with it, they could close their eyes and plug their ears. It'd be their fault for invading our privacy.

But I couldn't express emotion back then. As time progressed, however, I began being what you might call an Emo. At least, I think that's the proper term. (Please correct me if I'm wrong.) Then I decided to join forces with the Winchesters and I unofficially gave my life to them.

On the day that Lucifer rose is when I proved myself to Dean. I drew the angel-ridding sign with my blood and held back the angels at Chuck's house so that Dean could stop Sam, stop Lucifer, and stop the Apocalypse once and for all. It didn't end up working and I died, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Speaking of Death, I had some very strange dreams about Dean while I was floating around in space. Allow me to explain. . .


End file.
